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noteguk · 4 years

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hickeys | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a “bad influence” drabble

— summary; Jungkook gets a bit jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, jealousy/possessiveness!!, kind of angry sex (it’s one-sided, jk is going through a Moment), unprotected sex, marking (hickeys, mentions of bruises), dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of oral (f rec) and of cum eating, jk has a big dick, the oc being clueless but overall having a good time

— words; 2,2k

— author’s note; this was supposed to be shorter but, well, that’s the story of my life. A few people asked for a bit of jealous!jk so here I am to deliver it 😌 Inspired by this ask I got.

Jungkook hated the wintertime. He hated the fact that you no longer used skirts because of the cold weather, hated that you had to go away for a few weeks because of winter break and, above all, hated those stupid turtlenecks you wore.

Not because you didn’t look good in them — in fact, he had grown to appreciate them over the weeks, the way they made your breasts pop out and how your body felt so comfortable and warm against his — but because it became extremely easy for you to cover up the hickeys he gave you. Which completely missed the point of even having hickeys in the first place.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” You asked him, fingers pulling slightly on the messy strings of his dark hair. Jungkook was hovering above you in bed, his mouth glued to the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh. He simply moaned in response, hoping that the roll of his hips against yours would make you shut up. Which obviously didn’t happen. “You better not be doing it.”

Jungkook pulled away from your skin with a pop!, watching the blossoming red that appeared close to your jaw. It would be hard to cover up that one. “And what if I am?” He smirked, placing a kiss against your lips. His cock was deep inside you, and it was incredibly difficult to argue with him when he was fucking you so well. Not that it would stop you from trying. “What are you going to do about it?”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, the frown on your face only making him smile wider. “You’re such a jerk, I’m going to spend all the concealer I have left with this one,” you complained, and Jungkook hummed and leaned back towards your neck, resuming his devilish ministrations. Only one hickey wouldn’t be enough, Jungkook realized, he wanted you to go out to buy more makeup for that. “What’s the deal with you today?” You tried again.

Jungkook’s irritated groan vibrated throughout your skin, his hands tightening around your hips as a flame of anger sparked inside his chest. His deal was that you had cancelled on him at least three times last week to go out with some stupid guy named Jimin from your Wednesday afternoon class. He knew that he shouldn’t care about it — you two were obviously not exclusive, barely even a thing, and you didn’t seem to give a single fuck when he told you about one of the girls that he was going out with. And yet there he was: pissed off out of his mind because someone else might have interest in you, fucking you hard into the mattress because he wanted you to remember that no one could be as good as he was.

There was also a second layer of indignation when it came to that subject: Jungkook was frustrated with himself because he was balls deep inside your pussy and he couldn’t even focus on it without thinking about your stupid date. It was the fourth week of the semester, he hadn’t seen you for the entirety of winter break, and it was the first time that he was fucking you in your bed (since your roommate was out in some idiotic spiritual retreat). He could actually have you for as long as he wanted, as loud as he wanted, not a single worry about being interrupted. And how was he using that time? Being jealous of a guy he barely even knew, just because he took you out for coffee or whatever.

It really wasn’t his best moment.

“Jungkook, that’s so good,” you cried out, sucking him out of his thoughts. Jungkook grunted at the desperate tone of your voice, his name sounding so perfect coming from your mouth, and he just wanted to hear more of it. His cock was slipping in and out of you with ease, your wetness dripping down his length, and he forced himself to pay attention to you for the rest of the night. “I’m getting close.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook groaned and pressed his forehead against yours — he could tell that already from the way you were tightening so perfectly around him, hugging his cock like you were meant to take it. “You like when I fuck your pussy like this, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I love it.” You closed your eyes, back arching off the bed as he continued to drill his fat cock in and out of you. No matter how many times he gave it to you, you couldn’t get used to the incredible pressure of his girth against your walls, filling you up so perfectly. “Feels so good…”

“Is this all for me baby?” Jungkook finished his sentence with a particularly hard slam of his hips against yours — you didn’t even need to ask him to fuck you rougher, he already knew that was what you wanted. His eyes were a deep dark storm, glued to your parted lips as you moaned out for him, your perfect little cunt pulsating around him. Jungkook could only think about how wonderful you felt, how he couldn’t find someone better even if he tried. “Is this pussy mine? Was it made for me?”

Jungkook was fucking you so well that you could not help but nod, a pathetic whimper tearing itself from your throat as your hands fumbled to hold onto the nape of his neck. Your nails scratched his skin, the sensation making him groan.

“Yeah, it’s yours.” You said it because you knew that it was all pretend, all his weird possessiveness that he only showed when he was hitting that deep inside you. Jungkook also knew that it was bullshit — but he allowed himself to dive into that fantasy as he felt himself throb inside you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m really close.”

But he didn’t relent. Jungkook shoved his head on the curve of your neck, grunting as he quickened his pace in and out of you. He could feel your thighs trembling, your pussy fluttering around him, and yet it didn’t feel like it was enough. “Say it again,” he roared, hands digging to the flesh of your hips. It would leave a mark, both of you were aware of that, and yet there was a shared sense of wonder when you saw the purple bruises that he would leave behind. “Say that it’s mine.”

“This pussy is yours, Jungkook,” you whined, head pressed hard against the soft pillows. At that point, you’d say and do anything he asked you to. “O-Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice hoarse and deep as sin. Jungkook was drilling into you like a madman, hoping that the ache between your legs would be enough to remind you of him, of what he could do to you. He wanted you to keep that in the back of your head next time you had to pick between him and some other dude who wouldn’t know how to treat you. “All mine, this is all mine. Made for me.”

He quickly got lost in his own praises, mind whitening out at the pleasure that monopolized his body. When you came around him, just as perfectly as you had many times before, Jungkook felt a wave of pride washing over him. It pierced its sharp teeth in his flesh, sucked him out of his worries — suddenly he didn’t give a shit about Jimin from your Wednesday class, because he knew that no amount of stupid coffee dates would ever equate to the way he had you. It was just a matter of time before you realized that as well.

He felt you shivering beneath him, the way you always did when your pleasure was starting to become a bit too much. Jungkook leaned back so he could see your face, that blushy mess that got him sinking deeper inside you, the thin veil of tears that swam over your unfocused eyes. He would bet real money that Jimin from Wednesday class wouldn’t get you like that in a million years. Not that he was jealous or anything. It was just a fact.

“J-Jungkook, that’s too much,” you whined.

And he knew that it was, but he also wanted you to feel it all, and wanted you to cum around him as many times as you could. After all, you finally had some alone time, so he was definitely going to make good use of it.

“Take it for me, baby,” he asked breathlessly, the rising pitch of his voice signaling that he was close too. Jungkook could feel his own orgasm growing closer, building up at the base of his spine and tugging at his balls, threatening to overflow. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You bit your lip, fighting against a sob as he continued his frantic movements. You wanted to be good for him, wanted to fight through that sensitivity for him. But sometimes it was hard to focus, and the space between the pain and the pleasure could be a bit too long sometimes. “A-Are you close?” You asked.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” he spat. Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on your own, watching as a coat of desperation painted your features. “What’s the matter, baby? You don’t wanna get eaten out after I’m done here?”

“God, Jungkook,” you said. If you weren’t so lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d probably argue with him further, perhaps try and ask for the millionth time what had possessed him. But you seriously couldn’t be bothered with any more arguments and your brain wasn’t fully functional yet, so you settled for a quick and objective, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook chuckled, lowering himself so he could place a kiss against your lips. “I'm trying to make you feel good. Let me eat my cum out of you, baby,” he teased, feeling as your walls pulsated around him at the idea. The fact that he hadn’t cum yet was a miracle on its own, because he had been about to tip over for a while now. “Unless you want to keep it inside you.”

The interesting part was that Jungkook didn’t fully understand his second option until it had spilled from his lips. Now that it had been spoken out loud, manifested into the universe if you will, it made his cock throb with the mental imagery of you walking around stuffed with his cum, making other guys think they had a chance when you were already his. He’d seriously have to try that sometime.

Before he could stop himself, his hooded eyes centralized on the hickeys he had embellished your neck with, and his marking was enough to make him spill himself inside you, painting your walls with waves of his warm cum. Jungkook called out what sounded like a broken version of your name, throwing his head back and listening to the wonderful whimpers you were producing for him. Just for him.

At that point, both of you were considering buying your roommate something as a way to thank her for her wonderful idea of a spiritual retreat.

Jungkook breathed out hard and removed his cock from your pussy, watching as the white liquid dripped between your glistening folds, accumulating on the sheets. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d probably have yelled at him for ruining your mattress.

“Have you made up your mind?” He asked, flickering his gaze up at you. You were such a pretty mess, and he lived for the fact that it was all because of him. “Wanna keep it in or want me to eat it out?”

Honestly, he realized there was no wrong choice and, yet, he wanted to know what you would pick.

You bit your lip and, after a moment of hesitation, you answered. “Eat it out,” you said.

Jungkook smirked, lowering his head between your legs. “Good girl.”

Jungkook saw you wearing a scarf the next day and he wanted to smack himself across the face for not considering that possibility. It hid all his efforts to mark you, didn’t make you nervous talking to other people. He could see from the faint coat of sweat on your face that you were feeling hot, but he also saw you smirking at him enough times to know that you were planning to endure that for as long as necessary. He was stupid to believe he’d actually get what he wanted for once: it had been too easy.

He really fucking hated the wintertime.

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith @fan-ati–c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bad influence #bad boy jungkook #pwp #drabble #smut #jungkook pwp #bts #jeon jungkook #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

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Hate to Date Ch.2 | Brittana

A/N - Back to back weekly updates? You can thank this damn head cold for keeping me in bed LOL. I’m so blown away by the response the first chapter received, like holy shit you guys love a good trope combo same as me! Happy that you’re all enjoying it so far, hopefully I can keep delivering. Have at it! 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

“I cannot believe this.”

Puck looks over at Santana muttering to herself as she stares at her phone and quirks his brow. She’s shaking her head now as she scrolls and it makes Puck wonder.

“What is it?”

Santana’s eyes widen at the screen before she’s scrolling again. With the shake of her head, she continues to mutter.

“Like I cannot actually believe this is happening to me.”

“What?” Puck tries again.

When Santana doesn’t answer, he leans over the armrest separating them to take a peek at her screen, but she quickly yanks the phone to her chest.

Puck sits back a little and starts to smirk, “You getting nudes in class now or something?”

Several students seated around turn to stare at them – even Brittany. Santana can already feel the color starting to drain from her face as they stare. It’s not the possibility that everyone will find out she’s being sent risky pictures, because hello been there done that – but because this is way worse.

“Jesus, no!” Santana snaps, but her deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression doesn’t help.

Brittany shakes her head before turning back to her work. The other students around them follow suit, but Puck’s the only one that seems way more interested in whatever’s going on with Santana than taking notes. He continues staring at her while she furiously taps at her screen.

“Can you stop? You’re being weird,” Santana grumbles as she side eyes him while she puts away her phone.

“Me?” Puck lets out a laugh in disbelief, “I’m being weird? You’re the one talking to yourself.”

Santana gives him a look but he doesn’t waver. In fact, he scoffs at her attitude.

“Ever since you came back from your last trip home you’ve been all,” Puck motions at her with his hand, “Which like, you’re always a little on edge whenever you come back from a visit but it’s lasting so much longer this time. Not to mention that you haven’t had any of your late night visitors come around. Something’s up.”

Santana stays quiet though and turns to keep taking notes. Puck eyes her, trying to find a weak spot in her armor.

“I haven’t seen Denise around,” Puck ends up adding, “I figured after bringing her home with you that she’d have a least one more week before you’re kicking her to the curb.”

At the mention of Denise, Santana stiffens.

Puck notices and pushes further, “Shit. What happened? Did your mom like…walk in on you two…” Puck lifts his hands to gesture but Santana quickly swats them down.

“Will you just drop it?”

“I can’t! Not when you’re always huffing and puffing at your phone,” Puck reasons, “Just tell me what’s going on with you?”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

“Because it’s too embarrassing.”

“Now you definitely have to tell me!”

“No!”

Suddenly Brittany’s turning around again, a flash of blonde hair whipping past, and a scowl on her face. Her piercing blue eyes cut her like ice as she glares.

“Can you both keep it down?” She scolds, “Some of us are trying to pay attention.”

“Some of us are trying to pay attention,” Santana mocks.

“Grow up,” Brittany says with an eyeroll before turning around.

Santana only sticks her tongue out, but despite the reminder that they’re still in the middle of class Puck is determined to get Santana talking. He’s such a little shit like that when it comes to keeping secrets.

“Just tell me,” He insists in a hushed tone, “I told you about that one time I nearly burned my dick off using your fancy shaving cream.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for that,” Santana replies bluntly, “I remember specifically saying that I didn’t want to know.”

“But that’s an embarrassing moment, so now you have to tell me yours.”

“That’s not how it works,” Santana says.

Just then, her phone lights up on her desk. She glances to it as Puck does the same. She knows what’s about to happen, but she shifts her stare to Puck hoping that he’s smarter than that.

Of course, he’s not and soon they’re both lunging for her phone.

Santana’s closer so she gets a hand on it first, but so does Puck and he tries valiantly to muscle her out of the way. It’s a lost cause trying to beat him but what she lacks in brawn she makes up for in brain. She’s quick to pinch him right under the bicep and Puck instantly pulls back.

“Ow! Fuck!” He groans.

Santana only smirks, “Don’t touch my shit.”

His face is still screwed up in pain as he rubs the spot while Santana slips her phone safely in her bag.

“That was dirty,” Puck tells her.

Santana just shrugs, “Would you expect anything less of me?”

Puck starts to grin, “Guess not.”

“Okay then,” She smirks and nods to the front of the lecture hall, “Now leave me alone. I’m trying to listen.”

And Puck does as he’s told – for a solid five seconds.

“Come on,” Puck pleads, “This is just a review. You don’t even need to listen.”

Santana sighs, “You’re not going to drop this?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Santana leans closer to Puck and whispers, “Swear you’ll never repeat this.”

Puck’s eyes widen like he’s just hit the jackpot, “I swear.”

“Okay,” Santana closes her eyes and settles her racing heart, “My mom is setting me up on blind dates because she’s tired of the kind of girls I bring home.”

Puck sits back and blinks, “Wait. What?”

“Yeah,” Santana says dejectedly as she goes back to writing, “It’s the same shit. She doesn’t think I take my future with her at the firm seriously because of my so-called reputation with women so now she’s taking over like she always does and trying to set me up with the perfect person. God, she makes it sound like I’m some sleezy player, but I’m respectful!”

“Now that’s hilarious,” Brittany comments just loud enough for Santana to hear.

Santana doesn’t pay her any mind though and looks back at Puck, “I’ve wine and dined every woman I’ve been with, you know that. I’ve opened every door, paid every tab, I even make sure they come first!”

“Totally, yeah.”

Santana slumps in her chair and thinks aloud, “I can’t help that I’m attractive, that’s what I told her. What’s so wrong about keeping my options open, right? What’s the point of being young and in college if she already wants me to settle down with someone already? It’s crazy and it’s ridiculous!”

Puck stays quiet for a moment longer like he’s still trying to grasp the concept, but only one question begs to be asked.

“Are they at least hot blind dates?”

Santana looks to him unamused, but she can tell he’s being completely serious and he’s so used to her judgment that it doesn’t usually phase him anymore anyway. So she sighs again and shrugs.

“I mean, yeah but that’s besides the point,” Santana answers honestly.

“Looks are important,” Puck assures her.

“Obviously, but I’m not that shallow,” Santana waves him off.

Puck shakes his head in disbelief, “So Mama Lopez has you going on blind dates...”

“Technically she’s only set me up on one blind date but she keeps sending through these potential romance partners,” Santana replies, “She has them formatted like a damn resume with a picture and bio, likes and dislikes, future plans. Every one of them has professional goals and despite them being relatively hot, they’re boring as hell!”

Puck starts to giggle as Santana shows him an example which earns him a punch in the arm.

“This is no laughing matter, Puckerman,” Santana says, “This is serious shit! I wouldn’t be surprised if she signs me up for The Bachelorette or something. This really is a new low for me.”

Puck looks back at her with a brow raised, “Oh no, my mom is setting me up on dates with beautiful and successful women. My life is so hard.”

“See that right there,” Santana points a finger at him, “That’s why I didn’t tell you in the first place.”

“Come on,” Puck jokes, “I can kind of see why she’s stepping in. Your dating history is on the same level as mine and that’s not a good thing.”

“Why?” Santana cocks her head to the side, “Because you’re a guy?”

“I – well…”

“Exactly,” Santana huffs, “I’m tired of the insane double standards. I like to date, so what? Doesn’t give her an excuse to meddle in my love life.”

“More like lust life.”

Santana gives him a look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Puck brushes off, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. You don’t do commitments and you don’t do long term. You’re there for the fun parts and then as soon as they get attached, you break it off. It’s text book Lopez.”

Santana hates how see-through she feels and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

“You’re one to talk. When was your last relationship?”

“You know the answer to that,” Puck says with an unexpected seriousness in his tone.

Santana grits her teeth and looks away, “Point is I don’t need her setting me up. I like my life the way that it is.”

“She’s doing the work for you though,” Puck reasons, “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic here?”

“Of course not!”

Suddenly Brittany’s turning around again, “You two are unbelievable.”

“Sorry Britt,” Puck apologizes and taps his paper, “I’m all ears now.”

Santana doesn’t have anything witty to say in return though, because now she’s finally letting the gravity of the situation she’s gotten herself into weight down on her. Since returning home, she’s been brushing this whole blind date thing off but now that she’s talked about it aloud it’s like the veil of ignorant bliss has been lifted.

She really is in deep shit.

There’s only so many times she can try to evade Maribel’s attempts before she’s being ambushed – hell, it’s already happened once before! Her mother’s never been one to back down easily, so Santana doesn’t see the end coming anytime soon, not until Santana has a proper suiter by her side.

“I have to figure a way out of this,” She says suddenly before turning to Puck. “She’s already set me up on another date when I come home for winter break.”

“Damn, Mama Lopez works quick.”

Santana reached over and grabs his wrist. Her grip is so tight that Puck winces.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“You’ve got to help me,” Santana tells him, “What if I’m stuck going on boring dates for the rest of my life?”

Puck laughs as he pries her fingers off, “Why don’t you just date one of the girls you bring home for longer than a couple weeks?”

Santana shakes her head, “I can’t do that. Have you seen these women my mom has picked out? The Art Majors I’ve taken home can’t compete with that!”

“Well then I guess I can offer my services.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “One: that ship sailed a long ass time ago. Two: no one would believe it. Three: I need someone that’s actually impressive.”

“Rude,” Puck puffs out his chest, “I’m impressive. Check out these guns.”

Santana shakes her head as he starts to flex.

“You okay back there, Noah?” Professor Martinez asks, “You forget you’re not at football practice again?”

Puck instantly stops, “My B, Prof Martinez!”

While they get back to focusing on class, Santana’s gears are still turning, trying to come up with a solution to this mess.

After another few days of dealing with Maribel playing matchmaker, Santana’s had enough.

She and Puck are home trying to wind down after their long day of school and practice. Puck’s in the middle of ordering way too much pizza while Santana’s in the kitchen already halfway through her second glass of wine. She’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone when a text from Maribel comes through.

“This woman doesn’t quit,” Santana laughs as she joins Puck on the couch, “Check this one out.”

Puck leans over and reads, “Likes quiet nights at home, reading and horseback riding.”

“She’s a horse girl,” Santana states, “My mother has recommended I date a horse girl.”

“She’s the hottest horse girl I’ve ever seen,” Puck compliments, “And hey, at least she’d know how to ri– “

“Don’t even,” Santana stops him.

“What?” Puck snickers, “Let me see the next one.”

Santana sighs but shows him anyway. They go through a couple duds before settling on another pretty blonde that sparks both of their attentions.

“This one’s in culinary school,” Santana says, “Not really a career path mom would’ve included in here but maybe she’s an heir to the throne or something.”

“Which throne?”

“Who knows,” Santana shrugs.

“Dating a chef would be cool. You’d always eat good,” Puck starts to smirk, “You see what I did there?”

Santana looks unimpressed, “Stevie Wonder could see that coming.”

Puck brushes her off as he takes a sip of his beer.

“You’re mean when you haven’t been laid,” He frowns.

Once the pizza comes, they lay out the boxes on the coffee table and camp out around it while they continue drinking. Puck has something random on tv but it’s so lame that it starts to be hilarious – or maybe that’s the alcohol talking. They go between watching the screen and scrolling through more of the profiles Maribel sends through.

“I don’t even reply to these things anymore,” Santana giggles.

“You’re leaving Mama Lopez on read?” Puck asks with his eyes all glassy, “Damn. That’s cold. Even your own mom gets the Lady Killer Lopez treatment.”

“That’s not a thing,” Santana laughs, “Besides, I reply to her just not when she’s trying to set me up with a future wife.”

Puck shakes his head, “How you gonna ghost her when you go home in a few weeks?”

“Maybe I’ll skip going home?”

“Bullshit,” Puck jokes, “Your mom would kick your ass then she’d kick mine for not locking you out of the apartment.”

“You right,” Santana chuckles, “I guess I’ll just figure it out when I get there.”

After a few more slices of pizza and more drinking, Puck gets an idea.

“What if you tell her you already have a girlfriend?”

Santana starts to giggle, “And who would this girlfriend be?”

“I don’t know,” Puck shrugs, “She’s made up!”

“Made up? That’s the worst idea ever.”

“She can’t send you pics of hot chicks anymore if you’ve got one though?”

“But I don’t have one,” Santana reasons.

“So lie.”

Santana quirks her brow, “You want me to lie to Maribel Lopez?”

Puck raises his beer, “Got a better idea?”

Santana thinks about that for a moment but everything’s kind of wine-soaked and cloudy.

“I guess not.”

Puck grins, “Then this is the answer to all your problems! Tell her you have a girlfriend already!”

It’s not one of her brightest moments in the world, but are any ideas bright after a bottle of wine? She just wants the constant texts about prospective suiters to stop and at this moment in time, Puck’s a goddamn genius.

“Done,” Santana says triumphantly and goes to send the text to Maribel.

“Liar,” Puck laughs, “You didn’t actually, right?”

“I sure fucking did,” Santana nods and shows the screen to her best friend.

“Can’t. Got a gf. It’s pretty serious,” Puck reads then falls on his back roaring with laughter.

“What?” Santana looks back at the text. The screen’s a little blurry so she squints, “Did I spell something wrong?”

“I can’t believe you actually sent that,” Puck says. There’s a brief moment of clarity where Santana regrets her decision but it’s quickly interrupted by Puck adding, “You never listen to me!”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that…”

Santana looks back at the screen contemplating whether or not she should follow up with a jk or just leave it, but the alcohol is making her move slower than usual. By the time she decides, there’s a next text from Maribel.

“Shit!” Santana throws the phone at Puck’s chest, “You read it. I can’t.”

Puck sits back up and does his best impression of Maribel as he reads, “Lovely. Can’t wait to meet her.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

“You’re so screwed,” Puck laughs, “What are you going to do?”

“Hell if I fucking know! This is your fault.”

“Hey, I didn’t send that message. You did.”

“You know how I feel about peer pressure!” Santana argues, “Mama didn’t raise no bitch.”

“You’re right, she raised a dumbass!”

“Fuck off!”

Puck laughs while Santana goes to stand and starts pacing but instead of straight lines, her path is curvy and she nearly trips over the leg of the coffee table.

“Sit your ass down. You’re making me dizzy!”

“I’m making me dizzy,” Santana snaps but slumps down on the coach. She tries to relax but her thoughts keep whirling, “Shit. What did I just do?”

Puck glances warily in her direction, “Okay. You’re killing my buzz. You need to chill.”

Santana shakes her head, “What I need is a hot and smart girlfriend who can put all these women my mom is trying to set me up with to shame now because apparently I have one of those!”

Puck raises a brow, “Where the hell you gonna find someone like that?”

Santana only shrugs as she downs the rest of her glass.

Puck nods, but something about Santana’s comment gets him thinking.

It takes about a week before Puck’s finally ready to present Santana with his solution. He’s like a giddy kid on Christmas morning as he leads Santana to a vacant study room one day before her cheer practice.

Santana grows even more curious as they walk by the smaller rooms available for booking and head down to the very end where the larger rooms are situated. She wouldn’t say she trusts Puck’s judgement because he’s partly the reason why she’s in this mess, but part of her really is curious about this big idea he has.

Or maybe the curiosity is actually desperation?

When they get to the last door, Puck pauses and turns to her.

“You ready?”

Santana gives him a curious look before shrugging, “I guess?”

Puck nods and swings open the door in a showy fashion.

There is a single table with two chairs set up on the near side of the room and Puck leads the way over, pulling the chair out for Santana so she can sit. She’s looking around cautiously, trying to figure out what’s going on here when Puck calls out.

“Okay ladies, you can come out now!”

“Huh?” Santana deadpans.

Suddenly, a side door opens and line of six women come sauntering out. Santana’s looking at them, trying to figure out if she can recognize who they are. Instead, she finds them giving her flirty looks accompanied by brilliant smiles. Santana’s momentarily starstruck by their beauty, but then she turns to Puck and remembers that she has no idea what’s going on.

“What the hell is this?” She asks him.

“Well,” Puck smirks as he takes the seat next to her, “These are the most eligible girls on campus that you can take home to impress your mom.”

Santana’s jaw drops, “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m so serious,” Puck replies, “I listened to what you said the other night. You need hot, smart, and put together – someone who can put all the ones your mom suggests to shame. Well, look no further because here they are!”

“Why does everyone feel the need to ambush me with beautiful women?” Santana mumbles to herself before looking at Puck, “How did you find these people?”

“I’ve got my ways,” Puck smirks, “They tick all the boxes – mostly – so you just have to pick one to be your girlfriend. Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” Santana says, “I don’t want a girlfriend!”

“They know that,” Puck replies, “They’re all wannabe actors. They see this as an opportunity to go all Jared Leto.”

Santana wrinkles her nose, “They’re going to send me a dead pig?”

“What? No, they’re going to go all method acting on you! They know the relationship is all for show is what I’m trying to say,” Puck explains, “They’re just going to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“So they’re basically escorts.”

“I mean,” Puck glances to them and back at Santana. He lowers his voice to a whisper, “I think one of them actually is. I’m not sure. No judgement though, do what you gotta do.”

Santana shakes her head, “No. Hell no.”

“Why?” Puck asks, “It’s like your personal episode of the Bachelorette. You love that show!”

Santana’s eyes widen, “Will you keep it down? I don’t love that show. I just like the drama.”

“Yeah whatever,” Puck waves off, “Just ask them a few questions and see which one you like the most and you’ll have a girlfriend. Boom!”

“I said no.”

“Come on, why not?”

“Why not?” Santana laughs, “Because I don’t want my life to be like that show. In fact, I was hoping it’d never happen to me and yet…here we are.”

Puck cringes but tries to smile through her anger, “At least we’re not on tv?”

Santana’s in disbelief, “Yeah. I guess there’s that.”

“You know, I worked really hard on this,” Puck frowns, “You know how many study sessions I’ve missed trying to find these people? I’m missing one right now, Britt’s so disappointed.”

“Boo-hoo,” Santana waves off, “I’m not doing this. I’m not about to pretend to date a random. First of all, they’re pretending to be someone they’re not on top of pretending to be my girlfriend. Second of all, I don’t know any of these people well enough to bring them around my family. It’s a shit show waiting to happen. God, you know what would happen if this got back to my mom? It would be way worse than what I’ve been doing.”

“How would it get back to her? Who would even tell?” Puck questions, “The girls have been sworn to secrecy!”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Santana argues, “Maybe her husband?”

Puck scoffs, “Coach wouldn’t – “

Santana gives him a look, “Who told her about the time cops busted up our Halloween party because some asshole tipped them off? And what about that llama that I helped your dumbass set free in the freshman dorms when you were drunk because of a ridiculous bet?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Puck slumps in his chair.

Santana stands and pats Puck on the shoulder, “This whole thing is a hard no. Good try though.”

“Thanks,” He sighs before calling out to the women, “Sorry, ladies! Deal’s off.”

The women all stop smiling and grumble beneath their breath as they exit the room, casting dirty looks at Puck and Santana.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” She says, “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“So winter break starts next week,” Puck mentions as the women file out of the room, “What are you going to do now?”

Santana shrugs, “I’ve been thinking of hanging back for Christmas so I can catch up on some work. Maybe make a little progress on that big assignment for Professor Martinez’s class.”

Puck’s brows rise, “You’re gonna stay home? I thought that was off the table?”

“Just for Christmas. I’ll definitely have to make an appearance for New Year’s,” Santana replies, “Maybe I’ll tell my mom I’ve gone home with my imaginary girlfriend to visit her family instead?”

“That could actually work,” Puck chuckles.

“Maybe,” Santana smirks, “Anyway…now you’ve got time for your study session with what’s-her-face.”

Puck laughs at that as he throws his arm around her shoulders, “You know I’m determined to figure this out for you, right? You asked for my help and I’m committed.”

“Yeah and I appreciate it,” Santana chuckles, “Go. Don’t want to keep Brittany waiting, she might draw a frowny face on your homework.”

Puck gets to thinking, “Don’t joke. She just might!”

While Santana continues to ponder on this dilemma, she contemplates swearing off alcohol for a long time. If she hadn’t been drinking with Puck that night then maybe she wouldn’t have dug herself into an even deeper hole. The longer she thinks on it, the more frustrated she becomes, but what can she do?

The next time Puck approaches Santana with a potential solution, it’s through a single text message a few days later:

Puckerman: Meet me at Rise & Grind at 3.

Santana eyes the message suspiciously. Judging by his last attempt, who knows what her best friend has up his sleeve this time. Still, she agrees because honestly she doesn’t have anything better to do and she’s curious. What could he possibly do to top his little Bachelorette stunt from the other day?

When she arrives to the café on time, Puck’s waiting for her outside the entry doors.

“Yo!” He calls out to her.

“Hey,” She greets in return before nodding at the doors, “I’m not about to walk into a blind date, am I?”

Puck laughs, “Mama Lopez got you all traumatized now?”

“I’m just saying,” Santana replies, “I don’t know if I can handle another one of your great ideas so this better be good.”

“Damn. Where’s the faith?”

“Why do you think I agreed to meet you? You’re lucky I even showed up,” Santana answers as she follows Puck inside.

“Okay, so hear me out – “

Santana freezes when Puck leads her to an occupied table. More importantly, a table being occupied by none other than Brittany S. Pierce herself.

“What the hell is this?” Santana snaps and turns to Puck, “Why is she here?”

Brittany also looks to Puck for an answer, “I could ask the same thing.”

Puck’s all devious grins and confidence as he pushes at Santana’s shoulders so that she’d sit across from Brittany. He grabs a spare chair from a nearby table and takes a seat between the enemies.

“So I’m sure you guys are wondering why we’re here,” Puck starts to explain.

“No shit,” Santana grumbles.

“I mean, I was meant to be here,” Brittany says and looks to Santana, “Just not with you.”

“Believe me, there are many places I’d much rather be,” Santana rolls her eyes and looks to Puck, “What is this about? I thought you were presenting me another one of your great ideas.”

“I am,” Puck insists, “If you’d just shut up for two seconds, I can explain.”

“Big ask,” Brittany teases, “She loves hearing the sound of her own voice.”

“Says you!” Santana snaps, “Seriously Puckerman, why’s she here?”

“Like I said, I’m meant to be here,” Brittany replies, “I booked this table.”

“Okay okay,” Puck interrupts Santana’s next insult, “The reason why you’re both here is that I think you two need each other.”

“Need each other?” Brittany’s brows rise comically while Santana’s just laughs.

“I need her like I need a nail to the head,” Santana says flatly.

“Same,” Brittany agrees then looks to Puck, “I thought we were here to make up for those study sessions you’ve been missing?”

“Of course you thought that,” Santana shakes her head, “What a nerd.”

“Hey,” Puck says sternly, “Didn’t you kick a girl out of your bed because she made you late for class?”

Santana’s jaw drops at the low blow, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Brittany starts to smirk, “Who’s the nerd now?”

Santana rolls her eyes and goes to stand, “This was a big fail, Noah. I don’t know what you were thinking but this – “

“I didn’t even explain yet,” Puck interrupts, “Just sit, okay? You two are already going to have to work together so you might as well start getting along now.”

“Back up,” Santana flinches, “What do you mean work together?”

Brittany gives them both a blank look, “I’m so confused right now.”

“No surprise there,” Santana quips to which Brittany scoffs.

“Okay look,” Puck starts again, “I may have spoken to Professor Martinez and now you two are sort of working together for the assignment.”

Santana’s eyes widen, “How the fuck did you manage to pull that off?”

“It was weirdly easy actually,” Puck shrugs, “A little fear and intimidation tactic to get Brittany’s partner to agree to the switch then I just hit up Prof Martinez to confirm.”

“I didn’t agree to a partner switch,” Brittany adds then cuts a glare to Santana, “Especially when that partner is you.”

Santana rolls her eyes at the blonde before looking to Puck, “Seriously, I’m this close to kicking your ass.”

Brittany sputters a laugh, “As much as I’d love to see that considering your bite-sized stature – ”

“I’ll show you bite-sized.”

“See!” Puck interjects, “You guys are already hitting it off!”

Santana and Brittany both stop to glare at him.

“Clearly, we are not,” Santana points out.

Santana’s starting to get really worked up about this now, she can feel her face heating with rage. Honestly, what the hell was he thinking? This might be even worse than the whole imaginary girlfriend idea!

Brittany on the other hand speaks more calmly, “I don’t know why you’d think it would be okay to switch partners without my permission or what you’re trying to drag me into but I’m not here for it. This grade is important to me. My education is important to me.”

“I know,” Puck says genuinely, “Seriously, I know. That’s why I did it. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Brittany frowns.

“Yeah, well it’s part of the reason why I did it,” Puck replies cryptically, “I think you two should work together, because you’re each other’s best chance at getting the grant. You’re the best in class!”

“I’m better,” Santana slips in.

Brittany gives her an amused look, “Sure.”

Puck shakes his head and looks at Santana, “I know you need this a lot more than I do.” Then he looks to Brittany, “So do you. And as cool as it would be to ride on Santana’s coattails for this, I don’t think I’d feel right sharing the benefits if I didn’t work as hard.”

“You’d have to win first,” Brittany comments.

“Right,” Puck agrees, “And it’s a slime chance of that if we’re teaming up – but you two? Together?”

Santana and Brittany share a glance, but they quickly avert their eyes back to Puck.

“Professor Martinez was right about what could be if you both put your differences aside,” Puck tells them, “If you two work together on this, it would be an easy win. You keep it the way it is, maybe none of us would get that grant.”

Brittany seems to really take in his words and consider the offer, while Santana watches him curiously. Since when has her best friend ever worried about riding her coattails for a good grade?

“Plus,” Puck adds, “It’ll help make your relationship a lot more believable.”

“Our what?!” Santana and Brittany gasp in unison.

“Your relationship,” Puck says, “You’ll be spending lots of time together working on this assignment, late nights at the library or whatever, sparks are bound to fly so a budding romance wouldn’t be the craziest thing ever. I mean, minus the whole hating each other part but you could just blame it on the sexual tension. Everyone’s already thinking it anyway.”

“Wait what?” Santana blinks blankly, “What do you mean they’re already thinking it?”

Puck ignores her, “You two working together on this assignment is the perfect cover! Like, how many lab partners have you hooked up with because you’ve spent so much time together? Personally, I’m at like a solid three and a half.”

“How can there be a half?” Brittany asks.

Puck only winks, “We got interrupted.”

Brittany looks taken aback, “Right…”

Santana, on the other hand, looks at Puck like he’s got two heads, “Have you lost your goddamn mind or have you been hit too many times out on that field and you’re now concussed?”

Puck sighs, “I’m serious.”

Santana stares back with her jaw tensed, still trying to decide how she feels about this proposition.

“I’m still on the relationship part,” Brittany mutters.

Puck looks to Santana with a proud grin on his face, “This’ll work.”

Santana doesn’t really know what to think at the moment. She hasn’t had enough time to process, but the logic is there – sort of. Call it a momentary lapse in judgement, but she let’s the thought roll around in her mind.

Unlike the girls he tried to set her up with the other day, she actually knows Brittany – she knows that she’s apparently a genius otherwise she wouldn’t be giving Santana so much grief. That’s at least one box checked so far?

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this,” Santana notes.

“Dude, you have no idea!” Puck replies excitedly, “It’s my best work yet. Look at her, she’s everything you asked for.”

Puck and Santana glance at Brittany who’s growing even more confused by the second.

“What exactly did you ask for?” She looks between the two skeptically.

The question goes unanswered though as Santana quickly interrupts.

“Puckerman, no.”

“Santana, yes.”

Brittany cuts in, “Can someone answer me?”

Santana looks to Puck, “Don’t.”

Puck doesn’t listen though, “Long story short, Santana needs someone to pretend to be her girlfriend for awhile so her mom will take her seriously.”

Santana’s face goes red as she gives Puck a death glare.

Brittany looks to her and smirks, “I’ve seen the women hanging off of you. It’s going to take a lot more than a fake girlfriend to do that.”

“You know what? Fuck you,” Santana mutters.

“I know,” Puck says to Brittany, “That’s why she needs someone hot and smart and impressive to convince Mama Lopez that she’s in a legit relationship and she’s serious about her future and stuff. She needs you!”

Santana’s heart plummets to her stomach. She can’t believe Puck’s just airing out her business like this to Brittany of all people. She can’t wait to give him a good kick in the crotch when they’re out of here, maybe remind him about what it means to be loyal.

“Okay, you know what?” Santana snaps, “Fuck you both,”

Brittany’s even more intrigued now though, so much so that she begins to smirk.

“So you need me?” She asks devilishly, “This is getting better by the second.”

“I don’t,” Santana rolls her eyes and stands, “You’re out of your mind, Puck.”

“Wait!” Puck tries, “I’m not finished.”

“Nah, I’ve heard enough.”

“I’ll listen,” Brittany says which makes Santana stop.

“You’ll listen?” Santana’s in awe, “Why would you entertain this?”

“Because I’m interested,” Brittany shrugs, “And I think it’s hilarious that you, Miss Santana Lopez, the supposedly smoothest talking femme fatale on campus needs help from little ole me.”

Santana can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Which is satisfying in of itself, but what’s in it for me?” Brittany questions as she looks to Puck, “Why do I need to be in a relationship with her?”

Santana goes to sit back down, drawn in by the banter, “I don’t know why you say it like that as if several women wouldn’t kill to be in your position.”

“Well,” Brittany starts to smirk, “They must not be as smart and hot and impressive as me or they’d be here, right?”

Santana rests back in her chair, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I thought,” Brittany grins and looks to Puck, “So what’s in it for me?”

Puck looks between the two before settling on Brittany, “From what we were talking about yesterday, I think you know the answer to your question, Britt.”

Surprisingly, Brittany suddenly softens.

“You’d benefit from this just as much,” Puck continues, “It’s Santana Lopez after all. You know she has some pull around here.”

“Right,” Brittany answers quietly.

There’s something beneath the surface, Santana can see it, but she’s not sure what and she’s not sure why her pull means anything to the blonde. Brittany only nods like she and Puck share some secret and that tugs at something deep within Santana. But before Santana can try and delve into what that secret might be, the spotlight’s back on her.

“And New Year’s is coming up,” Puck mentions to Santana, “You really want to go home empty handed after telling your mom that you’ve got this serious girlfriend now?”

Santana groans, “Fuck that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Puck nods, “Think about it. You both need each other in more ways than one but hey, what do I know? Just the dumb jock here. You’ve got to admit though that this could work.”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look as if they are contemplating whether or not they’d actually be able to stand each other long enough to make this relationship believable.

“You wouldn’t need to do it forever,” Puck adds, “Just a few months or so.”

“True,” Brittany nods, “No way I could last any longer than that.”

“You got that right,” Santana agrees and looks to Brittany, “If you agree to this, you’ll have to fly home with me often. That means being around my family and there’s a lot of them. They’re going to be all up in your business too, can you handle that?”

“Easy,” Brittany shrugs, “Parents love me.”

Santana’s slightly impressed by the fact that Brittany’s seemingly confidence about this already. Most of the girls she has brought home either panic or don’t panic enough. She’s interested to see how much of this confidence holds up though when the time comes.

“And on campus,” Santana adds, “We’re going to have to act like a couple here too. We can’t slip up because word might get back to my mom and that’ll fuck up the whole thing.”

“It’ll be difficult,” Brittany replies, “But I’m sure I can manage, so long as you do your best work for Prof Martinez’s assignment. I need that grant.”

“We’ll get that grant,” Santana assures her.

“So,” Puck prompts, “What do you say? You two girlfriends now?”

Again, Santana and Brittany look back at each other. Santana eyes her analytically and she can’t believe she’s actually considering this. Ever since Brittany’s transferred here, she has challenged Santana academically at every turn, it’s been a nightmare. She’s never been one to share the top spot and now she’s expected to work with her? It’s crazy talk.

But the longer she stares, the more sense it starts to make because Brittany really does check all the boxes – no matter how much Santana hates to admit it. Obviously, the smarts are there otherwise they wouldn’t be in this rivalry mess but that’s not all there is. Brittany competes with the Brainiacs and she’s on the robotics team, she tutors in her free time and other nerdy shit Santana wouldn’t dare get involved with.

Not to mention, Brittany’s smokin’ hot. Like objectively speaking, Santana thinks. She’s got legs for days and this mega watt smile and those eyes – as much as she hates to make eye contact with her, it’s not the worst view in the world.

When Santana finally drifts back to reality, she lets out a deep sigh.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Puck clarifies.

“I’m not going to say it again,” Santana grumbles.

“And you?” Puck asks Brittany.

She hesitates first before nodding, “Yeah.”

“Yes!” Puck exclaims and looks to Santana, “See, I told you I was committed to figuring this out! Break out your phones, let’s make this Facebook official!”

Santana nods warily then looks to Brittany, “The first hurdle will be the annual New Year’s Eve party my mom puts together so we can use the week before as a practice run. Unless you’re heading home for Christmas?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I’ll be here.”

“Great,” Santana replies, “God, I can’t believe I’m even talking about this. I can’t believe I have to pretend to be in a relationship with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Brittany says, “Like you aren’t even my type.”

Santana’s first instinct is to scoff, but she can’t help but wonder what Brittany’s reason for agreeing to do all this might be. Surely her parents aren’t also trying to set her up on dates with randoms? Either way, whatever it is – maybe Santana can have some fun with this? After all, what’s the point of fake dating your archnemesis if you can’t make them suffer a little?

“Please,” Santana smirks, “I’m the embodiment of your type.”

“Yeah. Right,” Brittany laughs, “You like them easy and ditzy.”

Puck only wears a proud smile as he watches from between them.

“Love the bonding, guys! No one’s going to suspect a thing!”

#Hate to Date #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #Fake Dating Au #Santana Lopez #Brittany S. Pierce #Fanfics

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lotorhasabuttcape · 4 years

Text

Umbrella Academy Season 2 Review

So, the season opens with Klaus and Bogo’s wedding. Personally, I was a bit surprised by this. I mean, I, like everyone else, had obviously noticed the sexual tension between Klaus and Pogo in season 1, but I didn’t think their relationship would progress so quickly. No matter—my confusion was quickly resolved when this was revealed to be a significant jump into the future. Now I’m excited to see what events will lead up to this moment. Curiously, pogo is depicted with blonde fur and piercing blue eyes. He didn’t have those before, right? What’s going on here? Luther is nowhere to be seen.

So now we catch up with Diego, who has been forced to quit promoting his tech startup in order to restrain Luther in his basement full time. We learn that Luther’s ape DNA has been ravaging his mind in addition to his body, and now he has begun to behave in a manner that is unpredictable and dangerous. It clearly pains Diego to do what must be done, but he understands the importance of protecting his siblings.

Allison is devastated, naturally. She wears all black for the remainder of the series, and her face is always obscured by an ornate lace veil. I thought this subtle symbolism of her grief was a nice touch. Her only solace in the entire series is hanging out with Vanya. They get like ice cream together and stuff and it’s really nice. Anyway.

Restraining Luther is really taking its toll on Diego. In just a few episodes he goes from a handsome young man to an old, stressed out geezer. [insert photo of old 5]. Clearly, something needs to be done about Luther. Diego can’t carry on like this, and it will rip him apart to continue to try. With Diego too broken to act, it is Vanya to the rescue. As established in Season 1, Vanya can breathe underwater and withstand intense atmospheric pressure, so naturally she volunteers to drive Luther to the moon to live out the rest of his days, just as Daddy Hargreaves intended. Luther had to be tased several times and restrained with horse tranquilizers, but the result is a peaceful, poetic, and poignant scene where Vanya sails through the sky while Drive Me to the Moon plays in the background. I’m not going to lie guys, I shed a tear at this moment.

You’re probably wonder why 5 let Vanya borrow his car for this purpose, as it was surely destroyed in the process of transporting Luther to his lunar prison. Well the answer is that he didn’t. Luther’s dramatic subplot eclipsed a larger issue. Just as 5’s age was reversed in Season 1 so that the 60-something year-old man was represented by a teen boy, this time 5’s aging process reversed even more. Five has now been reduced to a newborn infant, in a brilliant Benjamin Button-style twist. Despite his infantile appearance, it is made evident that he still possesses the sharp wit of an older man by the fact that he sips margaritas from his baby bottle and can frequently be seen cuddling and sucking on a loaded handgun.

None of the other siblings knew what to do with him or how to care for a baby. Because of this, Five spends the majority of the Season cradled in Dolores the mannequin’s arms, where he was left by his siblings, who did not know or care how to better look after him. He only moves from this position when Allison takes pity on him in episode 12, where she scoops him up, smiles at his delighted face, and finally removes her veil once and for all. We can safely assume that Allison has decided to adopt him from that point onward. Allison has never embraced typical sibling relationships, instead treating her brother Luther as a love interest and now, in order to heal her broken heart, treats her brother Five as an adopted son. This is a beautiful character arc and it was an honor to watch Allison’s character grow in such a significant way.

We see intermittent flashes of Luther on the moon. He is growing increasingly apelike, and finally, is no longer recognizable as the man he once was. Around this time, the enigmatic link between Pogo and Luther is finally revealed. When Luther is reduced to nothing but a King Kong-esque apeman destined to live and die in lunar solitude, Bogo’s blonde haired blue eyed appearance is explained at last. Boho steps forward in one of the final scenes, and in walks... Luther?? Wait what? The Hargreaves siblings are similarly confused, including Ben, who is now alive. There is nothing monkey-like about this Luther. He is 100% human. It is Allison who ventures first, to ask what is going on.

Luther, or should I say “Luther,” explains that he is not Luther at all. Luther is still a gorilla man rotting on the moon, just as Vanya left him. This new and improved Luther is actually Bogo, who explains that he had been growing increasingly human just as Luther had been feeling his humanity slip away. “You see, there was a link established between Luther and myself, ever since he was injected with the ape DNA in order to save his life. The same DNA that once saved mine.”

The siblings couldn’t believe what they were hearing. I, the viewer, couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Pogo was once a human?

“Not just any human. My children, it is so good to see you all again,” he said, and they finally recognized the voice as that of their father. Klaus divorced him immediately upon learning this shocking information.

In the end it is revealed that Reginald could take on other corporeal forms by switching his life force with theirs, and he had been using this technique to stay alive since the Byzantine empire, when he was born. He never intended to save Luther from the animal instinct that overtook him. Instead, all of it, including when he sent Luther to the moon the first time, was all just preparation so that Reginald could groom his next corporeal form. He never loved Luther as a son, and now he finally admitted it.

Over all I thought this season had a really great premise. Many of the scenes were beautifully acted and moved me to tears. I loved the tiny details, like how Hazel was JFK all long and how Vanya got together with Liberty Belle from GLOW. This season had a lot of great twists and I’m really excited to see what happens in Season 4. Let me know what you guys think!!

#Umbrella academy #klaus #Tua #Tuas2 #Umbrella academy season 2 #Vanya #Luther #Pogo #Five #Gerard way #the umbrella academy #hargreeves siblings

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morning-might-arrive · 4 years

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Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd.

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school.

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul.

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing.

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week.

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?”

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed.

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

#jackson jekyll #holt hyde #frankie #draculara #clawdeen #spectra vondergeist #operetta #johnny spirit #monster high #mh

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misssophiachase · 4 years

Note

prompt- AH Klaroline. we usually see klaus developing feelings for caroline while she's in a relationship with someone else. i would like to see something where klaus has been in an established relationship with another girl and caroline realizes that she's developed feelings for him. (if you don't have time to do this one, don't worry about it).

Thanks nonnie, I love it so much! Inspired really. Got a bit carried away too, see notes at the end.

Synopsis: One wedding and a completely confused best man and maid of honour.

“And all you never say is that you love me so.”

All You Never Say

Caroline Forbes, Maid of Honour, Invites you to celebrate:

The Bachelorette Party for

Katherine Pierce

On Saturday fifteenth of June, twenty-twenty one at Connaught Bar, Mayfair, London at 2000h

Dress: Party Attire

One week before the nuptials - Connaught Bar, London England, 10:21pm

“What happened to the Kitty Kat I knew who’d usually be dancing on the bar right now and showing the stripper just how it’s done?”

Although her tone was light and teasing, Caroline was a little disappointed given this was her best friend’s bachelorette party and there wasn’t a tacky veil or penis straw in sight.

Also, they’d been forced to hire out a venue to avoid unwanted media attention before the big day so the atmosphere wasn’t quite what she was expecting either.

The word lacklustre seemed a good word to describe it all.

Maid of Honour Caroline had been banned from most fun things when organising Kat’s last night of ‘freedom’.

“She’s marrying one of the United Kingdom’s most eligible bachelors, not to mention the youngest Minister in the Government’s Cabinet. That doesn’t really go with the wholesome reputation she’s trying to portray, Care,” Bonnie offered, eating the olive from her martini. “Although, I think it’s a shame you can’t put those pole dancing moves we learned in Cabo to good use.”

“This is one pathetic stripper, just saying,” Rebekah offered, joining them at the bar and stealing Bonnie’s drink from her outstretched hands.

“I was on the other side of the world, I could only go by his rating on the internet,” Caroline argued. “Plus, I also had to find one who kept some clothes on and we all know what that means.”

“What’s underneath doesn’t match the whole package,” Bonnie finished. “We don’t need to tip him, do we?”

When Katherine called Caroline thirteen months earlier to say she was engaged to Elijah, Caroline couldn’t have been happier. They’d all met each other at private boarding school and had stayed in touch ever since and even though they seemed like opposites, Kat and Elijah complemented one another.

Also, Katherine’s job as head neurosurgeon at one of London’s most prestigious private hospitals and her impressive family inheritance greatly helped matters when it came to swaying his parents on the engagement.

The Mikaelsons.

Mikael and Esther were extremely wealthy and well-connected in English society. They came from family money and owned a large and impressive property portfolio spanning the entire globe and had sent their children to the best boarding school the US had to offer.

Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire.

Caroline wasn’t wealthy like the rest of her friends. She’d be lying if that fact didn’t make her feel somewhat inferior. Her father owned the local general store and, if it weren’t for her scholarship, Caroline would have ended up in public school. Not that she would have minded but her father insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Attending the exclusive boarding school had been an adjustment to say the least and not just because of the ugly and uncomfortable uniforms they had to wear. Caroline was assigned to a room with three fellow students.

Katherine Pierce, although the daughter of a talented cardiothoracic surgeon and a world class architect, was wild and impulsive and constantly in trouble with the dean for her indiscretions like sneaking out to meet boys and smoking on occasion.

Bonnie Bennett was the gorgeous but serious high achiever whose parents owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the world. She was taught never to take anything for granted and work hard for what she wanted in life.

Rebekah Mikaelson, while strong-willed and passionate, was the odd one out from the beginning. She made it her aim in life to drive the other girls crazy with her brittle personality and unwanted opinions. Although it took a while, and a few choice fights that needed to be broken up between her and Katherine, the girls became best friends.

Rebekah’s brothers all attended the school at the same time but in different years with Elijah the eldest followed by Klaus then Kol and youngest sibling Rebekah.

The Mikaelson boys and their best friend from home, Enzo St John, were definitely the most popular and sought after by the female student body. Caroline, not being one to conform, refused to play that game. She had no intention of stroking their egos any further, especially head womaniser Klaus.

There was no doubting he was gorgeous, it ran in their family after all, but he knew it.

Caroline found that she could have a fun time with Enzo, a deep and meaningful discussion with Elijah and a joke with Kol but when it came to Klaus all he did was tease her and rile her up.

Of course she told herself it was because he was an immature idiot but wasn’t overly convinced it was the only reason given the looks she’d send his way when she knew no one was looking. Caroline hoped whatever weird thing was happening would dissipate when they graduated.

Kol and Bonnie had dated for a year at school, but apart from them they all stayed friends. So much so, that after they’d all graduated and gone their separate ways in life they still caught up for most significant occasions.

This wedding being one of many.

Katherine and Elijah had reconnected in Boston and, even though she always said he was too serious, they fell in love and were now on the verge of marriage.

Caroline was so excited, if not about the bachelorette party.

“Who are we kidding? I got the wild stuff out when you three were all too busy being good girls in boarding school,” she scoffed. Caroline wouldn’t admit it aloud but she had a point. “And there’s nothing stopping you three from getting up there with the stripper.”

“Pass,” all three replied, looking up at him ominously.

“How about we get out of here and see what the boys are up to?” Katherine suggested a twinkle in her brown eyes.

“Because I think that defeats the purpose of a bachelorette party, Pierce,” Caroline drawled. “And this is Elijah, no offence but poker doesn’t sound all that exciting if you ask me.”

“Says the girl with the special poker skills,” Kat smiled deviously. “Klaus likes to think he’s the best player but we all know you could give him a run for his money. I’d say watching you fleece him is a fun way to spend an evening.”

Caroline had to admit angering the best man and her wedding partner certainly had its benefits. They’d seen each other in passing the previous day on arrival but otherwise hadn’t connected much recently because she was based on the West coast in Los Angeles and him on the East in New York City.

He was the CEO of a prominent stockbroking firm and, by all reports, had been dating a Texan oil billionaire’s daughter and model, Hayley someone, for the past year.

Okay, her surname was Marshall.

She may have read a few editions of Page Six and seen them attending premieres and openings. She was sort of attractive.

Okay, she was gorgeous with big, brown doe eyes and a glossy chestnut mane and legs for days.

Caroline told herself that she didn’t care more times than she could count but there was also something lingering beneath the surface with Klaus. She would have endeavoured to forget him after school had it not been for something that happened two years earlier and changed her opinion of him completely.

Bastard.

And with that came the insecurity she hated. Even though she’d carved out a successful career as a human rights lawyer, she’d never fit into his life because she didn’t have a rich family or a huge inheritance like Hayley. Not that she cared but she knew his family did.

She noticed her friends giving her weird looks, clearly she didn’t realise how much of a Klaus trance she’d descended into.

“Sure. Why not?”

American Bar, Savoy Hotel, London 11:07pm

“This is lame,” Kol scoffed, throwing his cards on the makeshift poker table.

“He’s only saying that because he’s losing,” Enzo laughed, pulling the chips towards him greedily.

“No, I’m saying that because this is no bachelor party,” he huffed, standing up and going to the bar to make himself another drink. “You couldn’t even organise one, measly stripper?”

As with the girls, the guys had hired out the venue for privacy reasons, not that they were actually doing anything untoward.

Klaus had won the most money so far but he’d left the table to take a call from Hayley letting Enzo win a few rounds in his absence. She was arriving the next day for the wedding and was calling to check on the arrangements.

Klaus was certain he’d told her multiple times but she was someone who liked things just right. But she also liked to call.

A lot.

At first he thought it was endearing but after a year he was starting to realise it was largely overkill. So too, her obsession with all things materialistic and celebrity and having to be at the opening of everything and anything. Klaus liked to keep more of a low profile if he could and that trait only reminded him of his parents and their chosen life together.

When he’d met her during a wild weekend in Miami, Klaus was immediately taken with her. He even thought it was love but decided that was just the tequila talking and it was most definitely lust. Klaus didn’t do relationships and he assumed she would be a momentary distraction until his parents had taken a strong liking to her. Or more accurately to her wealth and family connections and future prospects for them.

With Mikael and Esther it wasn’t much about love but what you did for a living and how much money your family had. Their marriage was case in point.

Klaus wasn’t one to do what his parents told him but he’d long felt the black sheep given his secret paternity and decided it would be good to earn their favour for a change.

There was also another reason to entertain the relationship, one that had made him realise that, no matter what, he was always going to have to settle for second best.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Klaus looked up into the eyes of his future sister-in-law. He and Katherine had acted like siblings from the moment they met so to him her marriage to Elijah was inevitable.

“Great!” Kol growled from his vantage point behind the bar. “Not only do I have to sit through this poor excuse for a party but now the girls have arrived.”

“Nice to see you too, Kol,” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrows. Although they’d dated over ten years ago everyone seemed to think something was still very much happening between them.

“As much as I’m glad to see my beautiful fiance,” Elijah smiled, standing so he could pull her into his arms affectionately. “I’m not sure this is the done thing.”

“Oh, you mean like strippers, brother?”

“You’re more than welcome to our stripper, Kol, we only left him in Mayfair about ten minutes ago so you might be able to catch him if you’re lucky,” Rebekah teased, swiping a few of Enzo’s prized chips from the table.

“Oi, woman!” He muttered, attempting to take it back while she squealed in response.

Rebekah and Enzo had been play fighting since he was eleven and she was nine. The rest of the group all knew it was unresolved tension that would finally sort itself out some day so were just waiting for it to click into place.

“So, what you’re telling me is that the girls were allowed to have a stripper?” Clearly, Kol wasn’t letting this one go easily.

“Oh would you please shut up, little brother, does it shock you that Elijah didn’t actually want one?” Klaus barked, his brother wearing on his last nerve.

For the most part his gaze had been surreptitiously trained on the maid of honour. Attired in a little, black dress that hugged her in all the right places it was incredibly distracting. She was also wearing her hair just how he liked it, loose and a little wild. How many times had he imagined running his fingers through those waves? Too many to count.

Yes, Caroline Forbes was his dirty little secret. One that he had every intention of keeping because it would do him no good to reveal it.

“I promise that when you get married I’ll book out an entire strip club,” Enzo offered, stealing the chip from Rebekah’s grasp while she wasn’t watching and sending her a triumphant smirk. “Happy?”

“Are we playing poker or what?” Caroline asked. This got his attention. Klaus looked over at her, his eyebrows cocked curiously.

“You play poker, love?”

“I dabble,” she replied, taking a seat at the table. “I mean, I used to play with my grandpa when I was about ten. Pretty sure the rules haven’t changed much since then.” It would have been adorable if Klaus wasn’t so competitive by nature.

“We are playing for real money here,” he warned, giving her one last chance to back out. “I mean I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m a big girl and can take care of myself,” she shot back. “So, just deal the cards, Mikaelson.”

The others took their place and the game was restarted, even Kol seemed to have gotten out of his funk to play. The first hand went like this:

“All red,” Rebekah smiled triumphantly, laying her cards on the table. After betting her entire bank it was sufficed to say she was out from the get-go.

“All red? Seriously, little sister? Can you please take her away Enzo and never let her play ever again,” Klaus muttered through gritted teeth. How were they even related?

Second hand ended in Katherine and Elijah being expelled for too much PDA at the poker table. Neither of the love birds minded a little time out in the corner.

Third hand came down to a poor display of bluffing from Kol while Bonnie complained because all she wanted to do was play Go Fish because it was more entertaining.

Then there were two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just give in, Forbes?” Klaus asked, leaning back lazily in his chair. She was studying her cards carefully. Most hands she’d folded before betting anything and he was starting to realise she was too careful, much like the girl he knew in real life.

“Give me a minute,” she hissed, fastening a loose wave behind her ear. Klaus could tell it was a sign of a bad hand but at the same time he wished he was the one to place it there.

“Okay, I want three cards,” she asked, placing the discarded ones face down.

“Maybe you should just fold, love?” He asked, partly because he was concerned but also because Klaus knew he was that accomplished. His straight flush was looking extremely good right now.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do, ass,” she offered, noting his shocked look in response. “I was just trying to counter your love with something equally fitting.”

“Fine,” he murmured trying to pretend not to feel dejected. “Three cards.”

She took them and again studied them closely. Meanwhile the rest of the group had gathered around, no doubt sensing this was their last hand and everyone could finally go home.

“Okay, how about we stop beating around the bush and I just bet everything I have,” she said pushing it all into the middle.

“You’re bluffing,” he blurted out, knowing it was impossible she had a hand to beat his flush.

“I guess you’ll have to bet to find out,” she smiled. All he wanted to do was kiss it off her face and that was just for starters. He shook his head reminding himself that he needed to relax.

“Call,” she said, her expression serious. They held each other’s gaze for a prolonged period, Klaus telling himself it was to try and read the poker signs but that wasn’t it at all. He suddenly realised that he could stare at her for hours and never tire.

Not just hours, forever maybe.

He cleared his throat knowing that everyone was now watching in anticipation.

“Straight flush,” he grinned proudly, laying it out on the table. She gave it a brief look before placing hers next to his.

“All red.” Given it was a ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace of diamonds, also known as a royal flush, she was clearly being facetious.

“You played me, Forbes.” He finally uttered amongst the cheers and Rebekah’s insistence that she must have had a winning hand all along.

She pulled the chips towards her happily choosing not to respond immediately. His eyes were still trained on her though, desperate for some kind of response.

“And you underestimated me, Mikaelson,” she murmured.

Yes. Maybe he had underestimated her and everything else.

TBC - Next part will be up tomorrow PM..there’s a chance encounter in the middle of the night, a rehearsal dinner and a slight wedding mishap before the big day. But let me know what you think so far : )

Follow on AO3 HERE

#all you never say #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #misssophiachase #what do you think #let me know #thanks anon #great prompt

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Who are you?

Reverse AU Malec oneshot

Alec looks after the archer, who has just saved his life with a well-aimed arrow. The shadowhunter takes his breath away and makes his heart clench in near-forgotten ways. Without a glamour, no one would be able to look past a man like him. The make-up, the striking colours on the tip of his hair, the flamboyant style of his clothes—Alec has never seen a shadowhunter like this in his very long life.

Who are you? he thinks, catching himself immediately before it can slip out between his lips and make him an even bigger joke in the other two shadowhunters' eyes. No matter his powers, it is clear that the blond only holds thinly veiled disdain for him, and the redhead he had grown to like over the years is unimpressed with him at best. And the third only saved him because the others want something from him. Clary's memories. Which he doesn't have any longer.

Alec's hand wraps around the pendant that he once bought for Camillo after selling his London townhouse, a courting gift of sorts. One he wants back to spite Maryse, if he's honest. The Banes simply don't deserve what used to be a token of his love. What a fool he had been. Maybe true love cannot die, but Alec stopped believing in true love at least a century ago. Nobody likes a plain warlock. If internal fights in the warlock community hadn't created clear fronts and the urgent need of a High Warlock, who had never alienated a single one of his fellow specimens, Alec wouldn't have the title to call his own.

He tries his best, but he knows that especially those older than him don't see him as much more than a useful tool. He tries his hardest to prove them wrong, works day and night, his magic equal parts based on bloodline and constant training.

Yes, he is respected due to the position he holds, but there is always someone breathing down his neck. And if it isn't another warlock or one of the Clave's brave soldiers, it is Valentine.

Speaking of which. Alec has to leave. He hasn't survived nearly four centuries just to be killed for a stupid pendant and the look of a handsome, styled shadowhunter.

He walks up to his portal, but Clary stops him. "Alec, wait! You're my only hope."

The warlock looks at her. He has to save his people even if it is the last thing he'll do. Not that the young woman would understand such duty.

"Valentine found us. I warned your mother this might happen," he says and steps out of the nightclub into his lair. He breathes a sigh of relief and shakes off the vision of dark runes and black kohl against caramel skin.

***

"Well done," a warm voice comes from behind as Alec looks down on the Circle member he took out after someone pierced the guy's leg with an arrow. He knows this voice can only belong to one man.

"More like medium-rare," he replies and winces. What a stupid thing to say. That joke was stale even before the young shadowhunter was born. But even after walking the earth for so long, spontaneous talk isn't Alec's forte.

He schools his face into a smile and turns, hoping it is somewhat believable. Once again, the sight knocks all the air out of his lungs. How can one human being, even one with angelic blood, be so beautiful?

He can't get a word out and nearly misses the man introducing himself way more chivalrous than he would expect from a nephilim towards a downworlder.

Magnus. The name befits the man, and Alec manages to stutter out his own, blushing fiercely as he stumbles over his failing attempt of an appropriate conversation opener.

Magnus smiles at him sweetly, and it makes everything so much harder. And so much more wonderful. "We should join the party," the shadowhunter says, sending a last mischievous grin Alec's way before he leaves the room. The warlock takes a deep breath and follows him to the battle.

***

When Alec's hand clicks into Magnus' as they start summoning Valak, he can already feel the energy pulsing from the pentagram through his veins, merging with his magic. Touching Magnus, there is a whole other current involved, though. Maybe it's the blatant innuendos of the young man or the confidence such a young mortal simply shouldn't possess in the face of a magical being like him. But why would Magnus see in him what no one else does? It's ridiculous, really. He's just toying with him for sure.

Of course, the unconventional shadowhunter loves his parabatai the most in the world. It's always the pretty boys who others fall for, no matter how self-absorbed they might be. Sadness spreads through Alec's chest as the other memories are pulled into the demon's vortex. Who will his heart choose?

***

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Alec," Magnus says as he finds the warlock on his balcony. Alec doesn't answer. There's no way to explain his memory away. It's pathetic and fills him with shame.

One look. It took him one look, and Magnus was the person he loved the most in the world. How pathetic! And he nearly killed the man Magnus truly loves as he broke the circle in a knee-jerk reaction. If it hadn't been for Clary's brave action...

Magnus leans against the balustrade and watches with Alec the night-dipped skyline of New York. "Do you believe in soulmates?" the shadowhunter asks.

Alec snorts. "Is that the pickup line that you and your siblings use to get downworlders into your beds?" Magnus lets out a wounded sound, and Alec regrets his choice of words immediately.

"I laid my fair share—I've been with men, women, seelies, shadowhunters, vampires…"

"I get the drift," Alec stops him curtly. He doesn't need more proof that his heart is foolish once again, giving itself into hands bound to break it. Magnus probably just wants to tick off warlocks from his to-do list. Alec, for sure, won't give his virginity to such a man. There had been hundreds of suitors over the years. Alec has never given in. He isn't that lonely or desperate that he would do it now. If he is good at one thing, then it is self-discipline, saying no to emotions and carnal urges his second nature.

Magnus shakes his head and smiles. "What I wanted to say was, I'm ready for something real, and you unlocked something in me. Given that I wasn't out for love when we met, it might as well be Cupid's magic if it hit you so hard in such a short time."

"It doesn't matter. Shadowhunters always end up with one of their own," Alec grinds out, finding it hard to keep his composure. The shadowhunter is just too unsettling. It's hard to stick to his rules and plans. Magnus is like a black hole, and Alec is gravitating towards him, thrown off his track.

"Do I look like a shadowhunter, who gives a damn about conventions?" Magnus asks.

Alec can't help but smile. The young nephilim definitely doesn't. But he can imagine what Magnus thinks about him. "No, but you look like a breaker of hearts."

Magnus chews his lip at that. "Sometimes, those are the ones whose hearts need mending the most," he says quietly and presses his palms firmly against the cold stone of the balustrade.

Alec pulls his gaze from the city and to Magnus. He looks vulnerable, his eyes shining in the moonlight. The warlock isn't sure if it is the silver eyeliner or tears glazing the shadowhunter's eyes. Magnus looks so soft. There is no teasing, no posturing, no lothario facade.

The warlock smiles shyly. Maybe, just maybe, Magnus Bane would not break his heart.

#malec fandom #malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction #reverse au #warlock alec lightwood #shadowhunter magnus bane

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peggyrose19 · 4 years

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Gone

hehe I am back with another heart-wrenching story for you all. Who’s ready to cry?? *innocent smile* Wolfstar this time :) Not all of this follows canon, mainly because I was too lazy to get my book and look through it for continuity’s sake. You guys will live, right? It still makes sense. This is for the @hpbrokenhearts festival so, if I broke your heart or made you feel things (ew) leave a broken heart emoji in the comments!! Thank you all for reading! <3 tagging @donttouchmycarrots since she asked and @im-oknutzy-trash cause I want to torture her :)

All Remus can hear is silence.

Somewhere in him, he knows that Harry is screaming in his arms, knows that the battle is still happening around him.

But none of it is registering.

It takes everything in him to not sprint forward. To not throw himself through the veil. The only thing holding him back is Harry, struggling against him, reaching out for his godfather.

His godfather who is now gone.

The love of Remus’ life.

Gone.

He remembers the very first morning they woke up together.

He’s not sure why it’s the first memory that surfaces.

It’s their sixth year at Hogwarts. Remus crawls into his bed that night, broken and exhausted. He appears without a word, climbing in beside him and curling his body around him. Remus stares into steady silver eyes and immediately feels better. Without a word, he presses a kiss to Remus�� lips, and leans into him, pushing him gently against the mattress. Remus sinks into it, body heating up with each touch. Without saying a word, he gives Remus what he needs and Remus has never felt more loved.

They wake in the morning curled around each other, blankets tangled at their feet and Remus never wants to move. This is home, he thinks dimly, watching his sleeping face, feeling his warm breath on his neck, the arm wrapped around his waist. He remembers the feel of fingers trailing across his skin, a soft mouth on his, the pleasure pulled from his body.

“You’re smiling.”

Remus grins widely. “I’m happy.”

“I’m glad.”

With a laugh, he leans forward and kisses him lightly.

“What about James and Peter?” he murmurs against his lips.

Remus pulls away a bit and pulls the curtains closed, reaching for his wand and spelling them shut.

“And class?”

“It’s Saturday. Relax, baby. We have all morning.”

His boyfriend’s smile turns mischievous. “Hmm, then I can think of a few things we can do.” Remus just laughs and lets himself be pushed back against the mattress once more.

When Harry faces Voldemort, Remus nearly can’t stand it. His heart is broken, shattered into pieces on the ground, left behind the veil in that underground room. Left with the man he gave his heart that night in the bed they used to share, then gave to him again in the dark dusty house of his family. He knows he’s not getting it back again.

The flashes of light remind him of battle. Of the battle he fought for the same fucking reason over a decade before. The battle that took his friends.

He cannot lose anyone else that day.

Remus arrives back at 12 Grimmauld Place hours later. Maybe even days. He’s no longer aware of time passing.

The house is eerily quiet, all sounds of life gone from the dim hallways. There are no more voices or footsteps, no one cooking in the kitchen or cleaning out one of the many empty rooms. He can’t even hear Kreacher anywhere.

The stairs creak familiarly under Remus’ feet as he slowly makes his way to his bedroom. It’s dark. He doesn’t bother with the lights, using only the faint moonlight to make his way across the room. Remus sinks onto his bed, head in his hands. There are so many memories from this room, from this bed. Late nights and early mornings, pacing the floors just waiting to hear, making love in the dead of night, screaming and fighting against the world, for the world. He wishes he was here, to gather him up in his arms and hold him tight and tell him everything will be okay.

But he’s not here. And Remus doesn’t know what to do.

He isn’t sure when he last slept.

He isn’t sure he’ll ever sleep again.

“Remus,” the soft whisper says.

“Hmm.”

“Wake up, love.”

“Hm, what is it?”

When Remus rolls over, Sirius Black’s grinning face meets him, mere inches away. His hair is messy, cheek imprinted from the pillow. He’s never looked more perfect.

With a quick kiss, Sirius says, “It’s Christmas.”

Remus grins at the childish joy in his voice. “It is.” Sirius kisses him again, soft and sweet, pulling him close and tangling a hand in his curls.

“We should get up,” Remus mumbles eventually.

Sirius groans, but rolls away from him to stand, flinching as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He stretches leisurely, back cracking as he reaches for the ceiling, shirt riding up a bit. Unable to stop himself, Remus reaches out and runs a finger along the exposed skin of his stomach. Sirius shivers.

“Don’t be mean,” Sirius murmurs. Remus just smirks. But he pulls his hand away, sitting up and pulling the blankets around himself.

“Wait.” Remus grabs Sirius’ hand before he can walk away and tugs him down into another kiss. He smiles into it, carding a finger through Sirius’ long hair. This might just be paradise.

But then a crash comes from downstairs and the shouting begins and they both remember where they are.

“Some other time, then,” Sirius says and pulls away. Remus smiles at him sweetly.

“I’m holding you to that.”

Sirius’ gaze flashes to him for a split second before it’s gone as he turns back towards his dresser.

“C’mon,” he says as he pulls a drawer open, fishing for a sweater. He finds one and pulls it on. It’s Remus’. “We should go start breakfast.” Remus nods, although Sirius doesn't see it, and clambers out of bed.

“I’ll see you down there,” he says as Sirius heads for the door. He kisses him one last time.

“Happy Christmas, Remus,” he whispers.

“Happy Christmas, Sirius.”

Remus wakes with a start.

It takes a moment for him to gain his bearings as he looks blearily around the room, lit dimly by the moonlight shining in from the small window.

His face swims through his mind, long hair and bright eyes smirking at him. He forces it down, the image too painful for his exhausted brain.

The dream is still clear in his mind, the memory even more so. That had been one of the happiest mornings of his life. Waking up with his boyfriend, warm and happy and safe by his side for the first time in 12 years. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get that again.

But now he’s lost it all over again.

The events of the past 24 hours come crashing down all at once.

He remembers Harry’s screams, his tears. Remembers watching long black hair disappear behind the veil, silver eyes never to be seen again. He remembers the crack in his heart, just starting to mend, bursting wide open all over again.

Harry is going to be okay, that was the most important thing he told himself. Harry and all of his friends, they are going to be okay. They are all going to be okay…

Between one breath and the next, Remus is sobbing and he can’t stop himself.

He told himself he would be strong. For Harry, for the Order. Except he can’t do it anymore. Alone in this empty house, filled with so many painful, wonderful memories, he can’t hold it together anymore. So he lets himself break apart. With nothing but the ringing in his ears and his memories as company, Remus lets himself hurt.

Eleven years old, standing before him on the train, silver eyes piercing his soul. Dark hair cut short, curling around his face.

A hand outstretched. He takes it.

“I’m Sirius.”

“Remus.”

“Gryffindor!” the hat calls and the boy’s face falls.

Years pass.

Friends and fights and pranks and laughter.

Full moons with Padfoot by his side.

Love. Joy. The pure bliss of being known.

Graduation comes. Fear looms over them.

War. Pain. Secrets he can’t share.

“Don’t you trust me anymore?”

James, Lily, Peter, all of them gone. Sirius. Gone.

Betrayal. He falls to his knees.

The full moon comes and he’s alone.

Years pass in a blur.

A headline in a newspaper that sends chills up his spine.

Moonlight, cold wind on his skin. The man before him on his knees, begging for the world.

“I love you.”

The two of them curled in bed, a low voice whispering in his ear, “Happy Christmas, Remus.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

A flash of light.

Silence.

Remus slowly walks towards the room at the end of the hall. He’s not even sure he can go in. But he has to try, he tells himself. He has to try.

The door swings open silently. Remus steps into the room, footsteps kicking up the thin layer of dust on the floor. It hasn’t been disturbed in nearly a month. Everything is exactly as he left it, nothing out of place. It’s as familiar to Remus as the scars on his skin. He stands for a moment, scanning the room, remembering. Everything is a reminder of him.

Slowly, so slowly, Remus begins sorting. He finds clothing thrown haphazardly into the dresser and he sighs. He never did learn, did he. There are socks on the floor, a few t-shirts along with them. Remus begins folding, placing each item carefully back into the dresser. He doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it all.

He finds his favorite jumper, one far too big on him, and presses it to his face. It still smells like him, of dog hair and smoke. Remus sinks to the ground, holding it close to him, as if it will bring him back. He knows it won’t, but he wishes for it anyway. With a deep breath, he pulls it over his head and continues folding.

In one drawer he finds not clothing but objects. Small trinkets and mementos from their years at Hogwarts. There’s a Gryffindor flag, now faded and dull. He finds the mirror, twin to the one James had, given to Harry a year prior. He stares at himself in the reflection. Nothing happens. With a sigh, he sets it to the side. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it was a let down nonetheless.

The next thing he pulls out is a telescope. He runs his fingers along the smooth surface, the cool metal bringing back memories of the night sky and a warm body beside him. The telescope was his, originally. Somehow it had ended up here. As he stares at it, he remembers the night he learned what love felt like.

It’s dark when the boy finds him on the balcony of the tower. Remus escaped there after classes for a bit of fresh air. And some space, from the man now sitting beside him. The air is unusually warm for the March evening. He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside Remus, and watches the sun set.

His heart constricts painfully as their shoulders brush. Remus wants to reach over, to touch him. But he doesn’t dare. So he stays silent, staring at the sky.

“You okay, Moony?” he asks quietly as the last strands of sunlight sink behind the mountains.

“Yeah.” Remus doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes front. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You want me to go?”

He smiles a bit, fighting the longing in his chest. He doesn’t have the heart to turn him away. “No, you’re okay. You don’t count.”

Remus feels him looking at him.

“What?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or offended.”

Remus glances at him, “About what, that you don’t count?” He nods. “I meant it as a compliment.”

They fall silent again.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Remus flushes, glancing over at him as his heart speeds up. Does he dare to hope?

Grey eyes have turned to silver in the moonlight, hair blowing in the soft breeze. He leans into him. There’s a look in his eyes that Remus can’t read.

“Pads,” he begins. He reaches out hesitantly, resting a hand against his cheek. He sinks into the touch, and Remus feels his courage grow.

“What, Re?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words come out in a single breath, barely audible over the light wind. But the boy nods as if he’s heard.

Their lips touch quickly, messily. Remus’ heart stops. It’s not perfect, not at all, but it feels like the world has frozen. They break apart. Remus presses their foreheads together, feeling their breaths mingling. He looks up at him, eyes soft and full of longing. He reads the silent question in Remus’ face.

With a breath, he leans in again, pressing their lips together, hands snaking around Remus’ neck and pulling him closer. This kiss is easier, less messy. They fit, their bodies molding together as Remus wraps his other arm around his waist. He sinks into his arms and Remus wonders why he didn’t do this sooner.

“Sirius,” he whispers against his lips. “I really like you.”

He smiles. “I really like you too.”

They pull apart, after a moment, arms still wrapped around each other.

“Wanna look at the stars with me?” Remus asks.

He nods eagerly and pulls away, and Remus grabs the telescope sitting beside him, lifting it to his eye. The boy points out the Canis constellation, grinning proudly.

“Look, Re, it’s me!” He’s grinning, arm wrapped around his shoulder, pointing up at the Sirius star, shining brightly down on them. Remus smiles at him, handing him the telescope and watches as he looks up at the sky. He never wants to leave this moment.

Remus shakes his head at himself, dragging himself out of the memory. His heart constricts painfully as he remembers the feel of soft lips against his, arms curled around him, fingers in his hair. A feeling he’ll never get back again.

He digs further in the drawer and finds a stack of letters. They give him pause. He surveys them, trying to figure out why they seem so familiar. It’s then he notices his own handwriting glaring up at him.

Breath catching in his throat, Remus pulls out a letter he wrote, over 12 years ago. Tears form as he reads the words from his 15 year-old self, lonely and scared, faced with a full moon alone and the knowledge that his boyfriend is trapped in this house with his abusive mother and neglectful father. He can feel the longing through the paper, the need to be there, to kiss him and make everything better. It’s a feeling that never left.

Heart constricting painfully, he sorts through each letter, reading the words he’d put there all those years ago. They’ve been lovingly preserved, evident from the careful creases in the paper and the neat organization. Every letter he’d ever written is now in his hands again. But the man he’d written them to is not.

Remus begs himself not to cry, not to break down again.

He lasts only a minute.

Later that night, Remus climbs out onto the roof where they would always sit together, staring at the sky. He looks up at the stars that had always brought him comfort. His eyes find the Canis constellation almost immediately, drawn like always to the brightest star in the sky. The air is cool around him, the sky a deep deep blue.

He sits there for a long time.

Memory after memory flashes through his mind. The pain in his chest only grows with each passing second until he nearly can’t bear it anymore. Even being betrayed was better than losing him completely. Tears spill onto his cheeks until he’s crying, whole body shaking with sobs. He doesn’t want to feel it anymore. He wants the pain to go away. He wants him back.

It’s nearly dawn when Remus moves again. The sky has lightened and his tears have dried on his cheeks. As he stares up at the disappearing constellations, heart in his throat, he whispers to the stars,

“Sirius, I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

#angst tw #@character death tw #angsty angst #wolfstar #all pain #memories #canon compliant #sad remus #hpbrokenhearts fest #sorry not sorry #hannah don't kill me

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thirdtimesthecharmsworld · 4 years

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Umbrella Academy Fanfic

Preface: I’m a big fan of Dead Like Me, the 2003 tv show created by Bryan Fuller. This fanfiction I’ve written is pretty much a crossover between the two universes, but with my own original character instead. It’s a bit convoluted, story-wise, so I apologize in advance if you read this and it doesn’t make any sense. Also, I wrote this in the span of a month, and there are multiple parts. I’ve decided I can’t keep it locked it up in my Google Docs anymore so here you go.

PS: This is the first time I’m posting anything I’ve written on here, so I’d actually appreciate any constructive criticism anyone may have!

As many times as I’ve done this, the young ones never sit right with me. Their big doe eyes always seem to pierce my soul. If I even still have one.

There were surprised gasps at first. Then silence. The room we are gazing on is covered in blood. And after the scene I just witnessed, I wasn’t even sure how much of it was his. He looks so despaired. He was really just left in parts, chunks of a child strewn everywhere. I felt sick. After all these years, the bloody ones still got to me. And this one, a kid. I turn away, reaching out reflexively to grip at his shoulder. He looks up at me, I can see, in my peripheral vision. I close my eyes, feeling my stomach turn. And then they started wailing. Deep, shuddering breaths and sobbing cries. I don’t think they even knew they were doing it, the six kids standing there in the carnage. I don’t have to turn and look to know they were clutching at each other, wracked with emotions. And I can’t take it anymore.

The metal door swings on its hinges as I rush out. There is a bang behind me as it hits the wall, but the only thing I’m focused on is trying to control my breathing. The last time I’d seen anything so bloody was Mom. An image: her blonde hair soaked red, against the rocks, my tears soaking Sofer’s jacket as he held me. My stomach turns again, and I lean over, my hands on my bent knees. Everything swims in front of me, my eyes now brimming with tears. Panic set it. I couldn’t do anything back then either. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save anyone, I couldn’t do anythi-

“Hello?” a timid voice behind me.

Oh, the kid. I’d forgotten about the kid. The images, the thoughts, the guilt I felt, leave my mind and I focus on the post-it note I feel burning a hole in my pocketbook. Of course I couldn’t save them, that wasn’t my job. My job is just to help them move on, go forward.

I draw a deep breath, almost losing it at the stench of the alleyway. I swipe my hand across my eyes as I turn around. Short black hair frames a delicate face. His school-boy attire seems unfitting for the ordeal I know he just went through. And he’s so small. Granted, I’m only a couple feet taller than him, but I can just see how small he is from the way he stands, so defeated, so confused, so innocent. I feel my eyes brimming with tears again, but offer a wavering smile I hope will comfort him.

“Hey, kid.” I utter. He just stares at me. I suck in a breath, the smile fading. Looking down at my shoes, I draw the courage to continue, “I know you have a shit-load of questions. But if it’s okay with you,” I look up, “I’d like to get out of here.” His brows furrow, and he turns to look through the door into the museum. I can faintly still hear the wails of his siblings, and I recognize that’s what he’s thinking of. But the bloody image flashes in my mind again, and I know that he understands, deep down, why he can’t go back there. Why he didn’t feel anything at the moment all that carnage took place. Why he’s numb now.

He turned, looked me in the eyes. He’s still hesitant, I can tell, but the understanding I knew he feels is there, just at the surface of his demeanor. He nods, and I walk forward. I gesture toward the opening of the alley, and we keep walking.

It doesn’t feel right to try and comfort him then, to try and explain that I understand what he feels. That, though I look 15, I know what it feels like to die.

We keep walking, police cars and ambulances passing us, until we reach the bookstore. Luckily, it wasn’t very far. He still hasn’t said anything by the time we reach the door, but I was expecting as much. I glance up at Cindy behind the cash register as I walk in. She nods, and comes to flip the sign at the front to CLOSED as we walk to the back. I grab the clothes and wet wipes I’d stored in the closet on my way to the table. Ben follows silently behind me.

I clear my throat, “So,” I started, “I guess I’ll ask you first. Do you have any pressing questions, or if you want me to jump right into it?”

He doesn’t look at me, just stares at the cup of tea in front of him. He looks even smaller with the big blanket covering him. I sigh, “Look, I-”. God, it’s a kid, I don’t know what to say to kids. And I haven’t even gotten a kid in a long time. I don’t even remember what I said to the last one. I look at him again. He is all bundled up in that blanket, blood still covering him. I’d offered the wipes but he didn’t reach out for them. I think he’s still in shock. Memories of my own death trickle in.

“It didn’t really hurt when I died.” I state.

He blinks. Finally, a response.

I continue, “I mean, mine wasn’t all that brutal, so of course it didn’t really hurt.” I look down at the sleeve of my sweater. “It was my birthday, actually. I’d just turned 16, which was the youngest age you had to be to get a job back then. Of course, Mom said she didn’t want me to do that. The people I was living with then were really nice, you know? It was the Great Depression, as you guys call it; so there wasn’t really much of a chance for food, much less money to buy food. But I-I remember wanting to help, to try and find a job or some food or something- anything really. I don’t know why I thought I could help. Like I said, I hadn’t eaten in a long time,” I chuckle. “Anyway, I went out in the night, so nobody’d ask questions. I figured I’d try to go into the city. I don’t even remember how I got there, to the city. I was just so tired. We lived a bit further out than everybody else, which was also why it was hard to find stuff. It took longer than I thought it would. I was so weak by the time I got there; so tired. It was so bright up close; all the lights and stuff. The smell was horrible, and the people I saw all looked sick. But I was determined to find something, some way to help my family. And then I smelled it. Food; it made my stomach growl like crazy. I looked up and I saw a line of people in front of a soup kitchen, and I saw people holding soup, and it looked so good. I stepped out into the street, to cross the road, and...and that was it. It was over...like that. And I wasn’t hungry anymore. I wasn’t tired, I wasn’t anything” I sniffle. “It was a car. It came barreling down the road, totally reckless. When I came to, Sofer was there. He told me what’d happened right away. He said that it was some guy with a pregnant wife in the backseat. Told me I was dead, and he was a reaper.”

oops, I guess that’s the end of the story. I look up at the kid across from me-saying his name felt too personal right now. He’s staring at me, and with dread I notice tears in his eyes. He is clutching the cup of tea in front of him. He looks a little scared, actually, and I feel bad all of a sudden. I didn’t mean to make him sad, I thought I was doing the right thing. God, I don’t know what to say to kids.

“Sorry,” I mutter, concern filling me as I lean closer to him, “I didn’t mean to scare you, kid, I just- I- God, I don’t know, I guess I thought it would help.” Speaking, obviously, wasn’t the right move, as all of a sudden the tears are rolling down his cheeks. “Shit,” I exclaim, reaching across the table to grab his hand, “I’m sorry. It’s okay, it- it’s okay, I mean, yeah, you died, but you’re okay now, right?” That also wasn’t the right thing to say, because he has started crying even harder. “Oh, no,” I scoop him up, holding him to my chest as I gently just sit down on the floor. “Oh, god, I’m sorry! Oh, I’m so sorry.” I can’t stop apologizing, I can’t stop hushing him, rocking back and forth with him in my arms. I am horrible at this. I am so, so bad at this. Why did Sofer have to leave me here alone? Now tears are pricking at my eyes, and I can’t stop thinking of all the people I’ve failed, all the people who took so long to get beyond the veil because of me. Me and my stupid emotions. I am full blown crying now. I still can’t stop apologizing, and tears silently stream down my face and soak the blanket Ben is wrapped in. Ben. Dammit, I made it personal.

It was a good 10 minutes at least until Cindy came to the back and saw us still on the floor. He’d stopped crying by then, worn himself out. We were just sitting there, staring off into the distance. I’d started brushing his hair subconsciously, and he didn’t stop me. He was definitely worn out. She helped me lead him to the cot in the guest room, and he laid down and closed his eyes. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he couldn’t really sleep; he was dead. I leave the door open a crack, figuring he’d realize soon enough and come back out. Cindy is staring at me when I turn from closing the door. I glare at her, “Not a word,” I mutter as I move to clean away the mugs on the table. In my peripheral, I can see her raise her hands in defense, “I didn’t say anything!” she exclaims. I roll my eyes, “Yeah, but you were thinking something, and that’s just as distracting.” I hear her sigh, “Look, it’s just that this is the second one this week, and it isn’t like you to do this more than once every couple of years, maybe.” Dammit, she has a point.

“Cindy, I just...I just don’t know what to do when it’s a kid,” I whisper, turning to face her. She looks sad, like she pities me. God, I hate it when she pities me.

“I know that, but the one earlier this week was, like 100.” I glare at her again, walking over to the sink with my mug bounty, “She was 95, okay? And anyway, I was only sad because I knew you wouldn’t let me keep her dog.” Cindy rolls her eyes, scoffing, “Yeah, no, that’s such a blatant lie, I’m even more concerned now. I fucking love dogs, okay, and you know that!” My head shoots up, eyes wide, “Cut it out with the cussing,” I hiss. She looks even more concerned, appalled even.

“The cussing?!” she exclaims. I lift my finger up to my lips, worried her volume will wake Ben. She doesn’t stop talking, but does lower her voice, glancing at the door to the bedroom, “The cussing? You’re worried about me fucking cussing now?”.

“Yeah, Cin,” I continue, taunting her with her most hated nickname, “I’m worried about you cussing now. It’s not my fault you’re always cursing like a-” I stop myself quickly and grimace at my mistake. There’s silence for a beat as I turn my head slowly to look at her, overly smiling apologetically. She’s pretty much livid now. There’s not usually much I can do when she’d livid. I open my mouth, “I’m sor-”. The sting of her slap on my back is something I’m used to, but I gasp in shock and let out a laugh. I continue apologizing, “I’m sorry De, I’m sorry!”. I laugh as she hits me two more times, not hard- never hard- but enough to get her point across.

“Low blow, man,” she mutters, coming closer to help me with the dishes. I chuckle a bit, “Well, it’s not like I finished the sentence,” I try to defend myself. She just glares at me, and we wash dishes for a couple more minutes. Cindy’s death was more brutal than mine. And being raped and killed by a sailor in the 40s left a bad taste in her mouth when it comes to certain phrases. In the quiet aftermath of our fight, I pucker my lips at something she said, “It was a chihuahua.” Cindy looks up at me. “The lady’s dog, it was a chihuahua, that’s why I knew you wouldn’t want to keep it,” I explain. She smiles, then furrows her brow, “You hate chihuahuas too, though. Why would you want to keep it?” Dammit, she’s got another point. Why would I want to keep some angry old dog that belonged to some old lady I don’t even know? I think of her face, all wrinkled, but full of comfort and love. Warmth. It reminds me of Mom, holding me tight. She was always so warm. It didn’t hurt when I died, but it sure as hell hurt when she did.

“Pen?” Cindy says softly. I’m pulled out of my stupor. I shake myself, look at her. That was a mistake. She looks so concerned, so sad for me. I feel warmth on my arm, and look down at her hand on my bicep. I sigh, turning to put the dishes I was holding in the sink, and then grabbing a dish towel to dry my hands. While Cindy dries hers too, I pull out my pocketbook and flip through to get to the right page. I peel the post-it off the page and hand it to Cindy. She grabs it daintily. Her face changes as she reads it, “Oh, Pen,” she whispers with remorse. I lower my head, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah,” I sigh.

Written on the post-it is a name, a time, and a place. The name, though, is why Cindy’s now looking at me like I’m going to start breaking down any second. Which I definitely would, if it weren’t for the fact that I just did that with Ben 5 minutes ago. The name reads, Margaret Selorde, and it’s been breaking my heart since Thursday.

“How is this even possible,” Cindy whispers. I chuckled sadly, “Margaret is a pretty popular name, D, I don’t know what you mean.” She looks up, tilting her head and furrowing her brow as if to say, “Yeah, dipshit, I know Margaret is a popular name.” I sigh at that look, “It’s actually her.” Cindy’s mouth drops in surprise, “Seriously?” she whispers, and I nod, thankful she didn’t point out that I just said “is”, and not “was”.

“Penny told me. Then she looked into it when she got the ledger,” I explain, “found some old records on it at the library. And texted me right away,” I smile. Cindy’s face says it all. Her eyebrows are pulled together and her eyes are watering. She doesn’t pity me, she’s heartbroken for me. Penny had to take the soul of my adopted sister, the only part of my family left.

I look back down at my shoes, tears pricking my eyes, “She recognized me, actually,” I sniffle, “Penny showed her a picture of me,” I chuckle, watery. I clear my throat and pick my head up, still not looking at Cindy, but rather a spot on the doorway across the room, “Penny said she-she said she always knew I ended up okay. She said she always had a feeling.” I pause, then look at

The door to the guest room creaks, and I whip my head around. Ben’s standing there, skin still covered in dried blood. He looks so small, so innocent, so- “Hey, kid,” Cindy says. I turn to look at her, trying to communicate with my eyes that talking to him might not be the best idea, because I still don’t know what’s going on in his mind. She ignores me, “Do you want something?” she asks. I look back at him, and remark again at the blood all over his clothes. He doesn’t say anything, but looks at me. It hurts, strikes me to the core-my soul, if I still have one. I feel the urge to explain Cindy’s presence, “She’s like me, and she’s my roommate,” I awkwardly explain. He looks back at Cindy, who smiles. The silence is deafening. I can’t stop looking at him, at the blood.

“Hey, if you want, you can use the bathroom over there,” I point to the door next to the guest room, “to, um, well, wash off.” God dammit, why am I so bad with kids? Ben looks, though, at the bathroom door, and then down at his hands. I feel bad again as his eyes begin to fill with tears all over again. He rushes to the bathroom in a flash, shutting the door tight behind him. I grimace at it all, and turn to face Cindy again. She looks appalled as she hands me back the post-it note, “What did you even say to him?” she whispers. I throw my hands up, making sure to keep the post-it secure in one of my hands, “I don’t know,” I whisper back fiercely, “I told you, I’m bad with kids!” Cindy chuckles, still looking concerned about him, “He was so small,” she insists quietly, “and bloody,” she wrinkles her nose. I sigh, remembering the carnage, “Yeah, it was brutal.” Cindy looks at me, all of a sudden very serious, “Did someone…” she trails off, making a throat-slitting gesture. I shake my head fervently, “No, no, no, no,” I reassure her, and she sighs, “He did it himself,” I explain. Her eyes are big as saucers, and she’s absolutely heartbroken, “He did it himself?!” I chuckle at her expression, surprised she got to that conclusion, “Oh my god, sit down, I’ll just explain it to you.”

#dead like me #the umbrella academy #fanfic

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark / remove it with the kiss of a knife / even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''mutter'' by rammstein

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